The Messenger
by highland laurel
Summary: On a trip to Williamsburg to visit friends Mingo meets three children and an Indian youth in the company of a delusional man. The encounter nearly costs Mingo his life. Contains reference to "The Love of St. Valentine" and "Kentucky Morning".
1. Chapter 1

The Messenger

The Messenger

Prologue

"Pa, when's Mingo goin' to be here?" Israel's bright eyes glittered in the candlelight. The raucous celebration continued all around him but the boy felt his friend's absence keenly.

"Now son, you know Mingo comes and goes as he likes and there's no way o' knowing when he'll be here. Could be today, could be weeks from now. You know he went to visit his friends in Williamsburg after he got their letter last winter. So you'd best just go to celebratin' like the rest of 'em."

Daniel scooped his son off the bar and set him down on the vibrating floorboards. The wedding celebration was in full swing and the fiddle music soon caught the boy's fancy and he began to clap his hands in time to the beat. But his mind did not forget about Mingo, and as events progressed it was a very good thing that he didn't.

Chapter 1

"Dan'l, these are some o' the finest pelts you'n Mingo've brought in here! Where'd you two_ find_ all these beaver?" Cincinnatus leaned over his bar, fingered his beard and prepared to listen to Daniel's story.

With a quick glance at Mingo, whose face was split into a wide grin, Daniel began his tale. "Well Cincinnatus, you know how the Shawnee favor tradin'?" Cincinnatus laughed and nodded his head.

"Enough said Dan'l. Upcountry there's some aggervated Shawnee wonderin' where their pelts've gone to. How'd you two do it?"

"Now if we tell you that it would make you our accomplice. You don't really want a passel o' aggervated Shawnee on YOUR tail do you?"

The men laughed together and Cincinnatus filled three mugs with cool ale from the barrel propped on his bar. The three friends talked together for nearly an hour, then Daniel gathered his accoutrements and prepared to go back to his cabin. Cincinnatus straightened and handed Daniel his mail. Together Daniel and Mingo walked into the stockade as Daniel rifled through the mail. He stopped suddenly and turned to the tall Cherokee at his side.

"Here's one for you Mingo. From Williamsburg." Daniel's face betrayed his curiosity but he handed the unopened letter to his friend. Mingo glanced at the writing, frowning. Then he broke the seal and began to read. The activity of the settlement continued on around them as he read. Beside him Daniel's eyes watched closely as Mingo's face lit with a pleased smile.

"It's from Dennis Dowling. Remember me telling you about the young couple I found in the cave two winters ago? They followed my advice and went to Williamsburg, to Walter and Nancy Miller. They just had a baby girl this spring and want me to come and see them."

"That's a far piece, but we've gone that far before on official business for the crown. And for the colonial governor before he moved to Richmond. Do you want company?"

"I haven't yet decided that I'm going Daniel."

Daniel Boone smiled broadly. "Mingo, you're goin'. I can see it in your face. You want to see this couple _and_ your friends that traveled with you when you came from England. If we set out at the spring thaw, we could easily be back before time to go trappin' in the fall."

Mingo's face registered amusement, his dark eyes glowed with it. "Daniel, what will Rebecca think about this "little journey" that will require you to be gone from spring until fall?"

Daniel pursed his lips thoughtfully. He glanced into Mingo's dancing eyes, then dropped his head. "You might have somethin' there, Mingo. I do have crops to put in and harvest. You're right. I will miss just traipsin' over the countryside with you though." Daniel sighed before he could stop himself, then lightly colored with embarrassment.

"Don't worry, Daniel. I know how much you love your family. I just couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you."

Daniel nodded and slapped Mingo's shoulder as the two exited the stockade gates and turned home. Mingo stayed with the Boones until the following morning, then shouldered his pack, hefted his rifle and strode eagerly to his own home a day's journey away.

The winter proved to be mild and Mingo began his journey to Williamsburg in late March. By mid-April he was through the Gap and walking easily down the eastern side of the Smokies. Late one afternoon his sensitive nose caught a whiff of wood smoke. He carefully followed the scent, slipping from tree to tree as protection.

From a distance of a hundred yards he could see the bright flames as they lit the darkening forest. Before the fire he noticed three children and an Indian youth. The youth was bound tightly to a tree. The three white children seemed very frightened. Mingo watched them from the shelter of the trees.

The oldest child was a girl of about ten. The child leaning against her from the left was a boy. He seemed to be younger. On her other side leaned a tiny girl, her thumb pushed deeply into her little mouth. All three children had their eyes riveted on someone or something that Mingo could not see. The figure was hidden in the shadows of the approaching night. Through the quiet came a man's voice, muted. Mingo could not understand any words but he assumed the voice belonged to a person blocked from his view.

The entire encampment communicated a sense of foreboding to the Cherokee. Cautiously he slipped another few yards to his left in an attempt to see the man whose voice continued in a kind of singsong chant. Finally, directly in his line of sight Mingo could see a slight white man dressed in a dark coat and trousers. His thin legs were encased in tall black stockings. Seated on a small boulder, the man had his feet firmly planted beside the rock. He seemed to be in deep prayer or supplication, his thin hands resting on his knobby knees, palms to the heavens.

As Mingo watched this man fell heavily to the ground and began to twitch. From his lips poured a language totally unfamiliar. It wasn't any Indian language that Mingo was familiar with, or Latin, English, German or Italian. Puzzled and fascinated he stood watching the strange posturing. Raising his eyes to the three children he saw that they had risen and were staring in horror at the babbling man. The Indian youth pulled frantically against his bonds, his dark eyes bulging from his face.

Mingo stepped into the light of the fire and approached the children. They noticed him and the smallest girl screamed in fright. The oldest girl thrust both younger children behind her slim body and faced Mingo bravely, her set lips trembling in her own fear.

The Indian youth slid to place the tree between himself and Mingo, the bark scraping against his body as he moved. In the fleeting seconds before the youth disappeared Mingo recognized his distinctive necklace as belonging to the Monacan people. The copper disc, threaded on a leather thong and worn tightly pressed against his throat, winked in the faint light. Beadwork adorned the front of his cloth shirt and the top flap of his moccasins.

The white man continued to lie on the ground, the unrecognizable syllables pouring from his lips. Mingo stood watching for several seconds. Then slowly he walked toward the girl standing stiffly in the firelight. He made his voice soft and non-threatening as he smiled at the children.

"Hello. My name is Mingo. Do you know this man?" Mingo gestured at the trembling man still sputtering what sounded like nonsense into the cool Kentucky air.

He laid on his back, knees bent and hands tightly clenched at his sides. His face was flushed and his eyes aflame.

The oldest girl stood stiffly, staring at Mingo. Behind her the youngest girl continued to shriek in panic. Suddenly the boy shot around his sister and rushed at Mingo, a rock raised in his hand. Mingo easily removed the rock as he grasped the child's thin wrist. The boy pulled against Mingo's grip with all his strength, then collapsed at the man's feet.

Instantly Mingo bent and lifted the fainting child. Carrying the boy he walked three paces to the edge of the firelight and placed him carefully on the cold ground. The oldest girl rushed to his side, fear etched upon her face.

"Bernie? Bernie? Wake up!" The girl shook the boy's shoulder as her voice betrayed her turmoil. The smallest child pressed against her sister's body, shivering. Mingo smiled at the little girl and reached out his hand. The child leaped back as though stung.

"Miss, your brother has only fainted. He isn't hurt." Mingo's smooth voice seemed to calm the older girl and she stopped shaking the boy's shoulder. "He is your brother?"

The girl nodded and turned to look at the tall Cherokee kneeling beside her. Several seconds passed as she stared into the man's dark eyes. His warm smile continued to light his face and the girl produced a small smile in return. Mingo's smile instantly broadened.

"There, that's better. Now, can you tell me who you are and why you are here? Is this man your father?"

The girl recoiled as though struck and began to cry uncontrollably. Mingo reached and slowly drew her into his arms. Her hands gripped his vest tightly as her sobs shook his slender frame. He could feel the tiny little toddler pressed against his side, burrowing under his arm. After several minutes the older girl drew away, her eyes widening in alarm as the heavy piece of firewood crashed against Mingo's shoulders.

No one had noticed that the senseless babbling had ceased. Knocked forward, Mingo rolled instantly to avoid another blow. He kicked out with his strong legs and sent the thin man spinning into the dark woods. Lightly leaping to his feet the Cherokee rushed after the prone white man and wrenched the piece of wood from the other man's hand. Holding the club menacingly, Mingo stood over his attacker.

All fight seemed to have drained from the thin man. He lay motionless on the soft spring soil. His light eyes gazed fixedly into Mingo's face. The two girls pressed against Mingo's leg. He gently encircled them with his free arm and spoke comfortingly.

Slowly the man raised himself into a sitting position and addressed the tall Indian before him. "Peace, brother. Peace. I thought you were molesting my charges. An honest mistake. You _are_ dressed like a heathen."

"I am a heathen. I am no brother to you." Mingo's spoke harshly as his mind brought forth Daniel's childhood friend Will Carey. Mingo had tracked him to Boonesborough after a brutal killing of three Cherokee youths. That man had also called him "brother", sneering with malice as he said the word. The settlement later discovered that Daniel's old friend was indeed a murderer. Was this man the same?

"All men are brothers. I am a called servant of the Word, sent to bring light to the darkness." The thin man's voice was gaining volume as he continued to stare pointedly into Mingo's brown face.

Mingo looked carefully at the man's clothing. There was no white collar but otherwise the man was dressed as a minister. Mingo frowned at the disparity between the man's dress and his actions. The behavior of the children warned him of a mystery he did not yet understand. And what of the Monacan youth still tied to the tree?

Drawing a rope from his pack Mingo leaned over and pulled his attacker upright. "Until I understand what exactly is occurring here I am going to restrain you. Sit in front of this tree and place your hands behind you."

Meekly the thin man did as Mingo directed, his lips constantly moving in a mumbled prayer. Mingo frowned again at the man's strange actions. He seemed to be in a trance, or suffering from a blow to the head. After tying the man securely to the tree Mingo walked back to the two girls now sitting beside their recovering brother.

Sitting beside them Mingo again asked their names. The older girl swallowed and replied softly, "I am Mary, this is my sister Anna, and my brother Bernie."

Mingo nodded and smiled. He took Mary's hand and shook it gently. "I am pleased to meet you Mary." He turned to the two younger children. "Bernie and Anna, I am pleased to meet you. Now, please tell me what you are doing in the wilderness with this man who is not your father."

Mary choked back a sob and began a tale that had Mingo cringing long before it was over.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"We were going to Salem. Uncle Hans and Grandpapa were already there and wanted us to come too. We were all going to open a tavern there for travelers. We stopped for the night in a meadow. It was real pretty. There were flowers." Mary's light brown eyes were soft with memory.

"While we were eating this man came into our camp. Mama fixed him a plate of food and we all ate together. He talked to Papa and Mama, and he seemed real friendly. Then it was time for us to go to bed."

In the light cast by the fire Mingo could see the same thin man now tied to the tree, listening dispassionately. Beside him Mary's pale face grew tense and Mingo watched her struggle with her memories.

"When we woke up the man was still there, so Mama fixed a good breakfast. Then Papa started to hitch the horses to our wagon." Mary's eyes filled with tears. "The man jumped in front of Papa. He waved his arms and shouted but we couldn't understand what he was saying. He grabbed Papa's gun and pushed it into Papa's stomach. He pulled the trigger and Papa fell backward. There was blood all over his stomach!" Mary stopped and swallowed. Silence settled over the camp.

"Go on, Mary. Tell me what happened next," Mingo softly urged.

"The horses reared and pulled loose. Mama ran to Papa. The horses stepped on her!" Mary's voice caught in a small sob as she continued. "I started to run. I pushed Bernie and Anna and told them to run too, but the man tripped me. He pulled me back to the camp. Annie and Bernie followed. They wouldn't leave me. The man tied us up and chased the horses.

Mama was laying on top of Papa. There was blood all over them and they looked smashed. Papa had a big bloody hole in his stomach." Mary's breath was coming in sobs. Mingo took her hand in his comfortingly. Beside her Bernie sat with his hands clenched and tears running down his face. Anna had her little blonde head buried in her own lap. Mary's words had caused them to relive the horror too.

Mingo leaned over and gently patted the children. "I'm sorry Mary. I understand. He can't hurt you now. I'm here to make sure that he doesn't. Hear me? Hush now, hush……" His soft soothing voice inspired little Anna to crawl into his lap. He sat cuddling her for several minutes then set her down beside her sister. Mary's sobs quieted and Mingo leaned over the girl to whisper into her ear.

"Mary, was the Indian boy with you then?"

The girl shook her head. "The man captured him six days ago. He brought him into camp all tied up on his horse."

Mingo nodded his acceptance of her answer. "I'm going to go and talk to the Indian boy. The man can't hurt you. Look over there. See, I tied him to the tree. I tie **very** tightly." His eyes twinkled at his small jest. The girl looked at his smiling face. She nodded her understanding and bent to reassure her siblings.

Mingo walked swiftly to the side of the bound Monacan youth. The young Indian had managed to pull his bound body to the opposite side of the tree, completely shutting himself away from the strange man who had captured him. Mingo had been told that the Monacans and Tuscaroras still remaining in the Carolinas accepted many of the English ways. He was gambling on that information being correct.

"How did you come to be with this white man? Mary told me that he had you tied on the horse. Why?" Though the boy did not answer Mingo saw his eyes involuntarily widen as he understood the English words. Apparently Mingo's information had been correct.

The youth looked uncomfortable and remained silent for several seconds. Suddenly he decided to trust the older man kneeling before him. Perhaps as another Indian, though a brutal heathen Cherokee, the man may free him. He raised his head and replied.

"I am Isaac. I am from Beth-el. My people live there in peace with the whites. I was hunting and found this white man. He was lost. His horse was tired. I gave him food. While I was not watching he hit me on the head. When I woke I was tied. I do not know why."

"I need your help Isaac. If I untie you, will you stay and help me take these children to Salem? The white man too. He must be punished for killing the children's parents."

The young man sat mulling over Mingo's words in his mind. Minutes later he raised his dark head. "I will help you. But be careful, Cherokee. That white man is not as the others. He is……..strange. Sometimes he is as other men. Sometimes he is not."

Mingo frowned. "How is he strange?"

"I do not have the words. But do not turn your back on him. Watch him. He is not as other men."

Mingo continued to kneel before the Monacan youth, thinking. Evidently Isaac had been Christianized, hence his unusual name. As to why he had been taken Mingo had no answer. He slipped his knife from his sheath and cut the boy's bonds. Slowly the youth stood and stretched his cramped muscles. Mingo noticed the bloody streaks on the young man's back where he had scraped his shoulders against the rough elm bark. The wounds were not serious. Together they walked back to the fire.

The children were asleep, huddled together against the fallen log that had served as their seat. Mingo pulled his blanket from his pack and draped the warm material over the sleeping children. He took his coffeepot from his pack.

"Isaac, where is the water?" The Indian youth pointed into the forest and knelt to hungrily strip the last meat from the spitted turkey carcass. Mingo found a small stream only yards from the camp. He filled his pot, returned to camp, poured a measure of coffee into the pot and set it into the fire. Then he too picked the last meat from the spitted turkey.

Minutes passed as the forest silence settled over the camp. Mingo leaned back against the log with a cup of coffee in his hand. Isaac stretched out before the fire and sighed deeply. The thin white man had not moved. He sat with his head bowed as though sleeping.

Suddenly, without warning, the bound man shouted into the Virginia forest. "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness! Hear my cry, oh Lord! I have seen princes walking in the dust and beggars upon fine horses!" He strained against the ropes that bound his arms to the tree, nearly pulling his arms from the sockets as he continued to rant.

" 'The Lord is my strength and my song, and He has become my salvation.' I will draw forth my sword and destroy them!"

Mingo spilled his coffee as he jerked upright and stared at the bound man before him. Isaac had already quickly scooted back into the darkness beyond the firelight. Behind him Mingo could feel the three children huddled against his back, trembling. The white man gave one last hoarse cry and slumped against the tree. His head dropped onto his chest and he appeared to have fainted.

Isaac slipped to his side and whispered, "See, it is as I said. He is not like other men."

Mingo could see the fright in the youth's eyes. Isaac carefully laid down beside the fire again, his dark eyes never leaving the white man's slack face. Mingo turned and spoke reassuringly to the children behind him. He bade them lie back down and once again drew his blanket over them. He could see their wide eyes in the firelight.

"Don't be afraid of him. I'm here now and I'll protect you. Go to sleep. I'll be here when you awake." He smiled into their frightened faces. One by one they closed their eyes. He continued to sit beside them, reassuring them with his presence.

His mind tried to assimilate what he had just witnessed. This thin man was obviously deranged. He was also obviously dangerous. In the throes of his madness he was capable of great destruction. Mingo had no experience with demented minds. He poured himself another cup of coffee and pondered his options.

After an hour passed he was certain the children and Isaac were sleeping. He rose and walked to the man tied to the tree. He circled widely around the man's legs to avoid being kicked. Squatting on his heels, Mingo leaned forward and spoke to the quiet man.

"What is your name? Why are you here?" Mingo's voice resonated with power. He had decided that the best way to deal with the deranged man was through strength. The other man remained silent, his head dropped onto his chest. Then slowly he lifted his eyes to the Cherokee beside him.

"I am Gabriel Vindicare." His nearly colorless eyes held Mingo's. A chill passed over the tall Cherokee's body as he translated the name: 'The Avenging Messenger'. Unconsciously Mingo leaned away from the bound man's body. Gabriel saw the involuntary gesture and smiled. The smile did not reach his eyes. Instead a spark of something else burned and glittered in the icy orbs.

"You are evidently something more than you appear. May I ask _your_ name? Edmund, perhaps?"

Mingo caught his breath in shock. He leaped to his feet and stared at the strange bound man before him. Gabriel chuckled softly and nodded. "Yes, Edmund. The protector. It is perfect for you. And now I understand your disguise. Yes. It was always too perfect. You travel incognito. Very effective."

Gabriel's head once again fell onto his chest. He closed his eyes. Mingo walked unsteadily back to the fire. He piled more wood onto the coals and soon had it blazing. He sat with his knees drawn to his chest, his long arms around his legs. He stared into the light, willing his pounding heart to quiet. The stars traveled in their appointed course as he kept watch over those that had come to be in his care.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"You shall not abhor an Egyptian, for you were sojourners in their land. The children of the third generation may enter the assembly of the Lord!"

The startled birds lifted from the trees in fright. Mingo sat up from his light doze. Beside him Isaac jerked awake, his hands clenched in panic. The three children leaped to their feet, Anna pulling at her blonde braids in distress. Above them the heavy clouds rumbled their threat.

Mingo patted the children and sent them into the woods. Isaac stood and stretched, looking up at the lowering sky. Mingo caught his eye and beckoned him close. "We need to find a cave before this breaks. Take one of the horses and look. But be quick. I'll break camp."

Isaac nodded and was soon on his way. The lightening flashed warningly. Anna and Bernie were holding Mary's hands as the three emerged from the heavy forest. Mingo smiled at the children and handed them each a piece of jerky from his pack. The cold coffee made their morning beverage as thunder growled above them.

While they ate Mingo carefully bound Gabriel's feet, then untied him and helped him to stand. Together they walked into the woods, returning quickly. Mingo retied the thin man to the tree and looked anxiously into the woods for Isaac. It was possible that the youth had taken the opportunity to run.

Moments later the boy reappeared. Mingo boosted the three children onto one of their Fresians and took the rope. He handed it to the Monacan youth and reached for Gabriel. Keeping the minister's horse tied, Mingo pushed the deranged man into his saddle. He untied the remaining Fresians, giving one to Isaac. Then he lightly bounded onto the back of the forth horse, untied the saddle horse and turned to follow his fellow Indian.

The small caravan arrived at the deep cave just before the rain began to sluice down from the charcoal sky. Mingo tied all five horses together in the front of the cave and led the children far back into the shelter. Isaac stayed with them while Mingo went to help Gabriel down from his horse. Once again bound hand and foot, the thin man was subdued and docile. Mingo leaned him against the cave wall and Gabriel slid slowly to sit near the cave opening. He stared at the driving rain. Mingo sat behind him holding onto the rope that bound the other man's hands.

After several minutes Mingo became aware of Gabriel's mumbled words. "The Lord saw the wickedness of man and was sorry. So he said 'I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the ground, man and beast and creeping things and birds of the air, for I am sorry that I have made them.'"

Gabriel turned his head to look at Mingo. His face was filled with sadness. "Are you. sorry, Edmund? Sorry for the ways of the world?"

Mingo sat speechless for several seconds. Then he answered the madman's question. "Yes Gabriel, I am sorry when I see something wrong. But I try every time to right that wrong."

Gabriel turned back to the pouring rain. He sighed deeply. He once again turned to the Cherokee behind him, his voice filled with confession. "I am sorry that I had to kill the children's father. But he wouldn't listen. He would travel on the Sabbath. I had to stop him. You understand, don't you?" Gabriel's light eyes begged approval from Mingo. "Now the children are in my care. It is the Lord's will. I will be as a father to them, and raise them up in the glory of the Lord. They will walk in the ways of righteousness. I will be faithful, I promise."

"What of the Monacan? Why did you take Isaac?"

"He also was delivered into my hands. He has been taught a false doctrine. I was in his town and heard the false words myself. I am a servant of the most blessed John Wesley, and of his servant Thomas Coke in America. They have seen fit to ordain me and send me on my way into the wilderness. I will teach the boy the true way and he will return as a messenger to the wicked."

Mingo sighed deeply. John Wesley had been ordained and served at Oxford. The student body there knew of his radical teachings. He himself had listened to arguments from professors and students alike. John sailed to the colonies to spread his movement throughout the settlements. Thomas Coke was ordained by John himself. Itinerant ministers spread throughout the colonies. Some were gratefully received and some were persecuted.

"They laid their hands upon me and I became white as snow. They spread their wings over me and I was lifted up. I flew over the wilderness and saw no boundaries. There were no constraints upon me, no tethers. And now I am like you, Edmund. I am free too." Gabriel's voice continued to gain volume as he spoke and he struggled against his bonds as he tried to rise. Mingo kept a tight hold on the rope but Gabriel slipped his thin hands through the knots and lifted his arms to the leaden sky.

Alarmed, Mingo leaped to his feet and grasped Gabriel's coat. The three children and Isaac pressed in fright against the back wall of the cave. Gabriel's voice echoed off the limestone walls. "Behold, I send you out as sheep among wolves. Be wise as snakes and gentle as doves." He turned to the tall Cherokee behind him. "Test me, Edmund. Test me! See that I am worthy."

Gabriel flung his arms wide and pulled out of Mingo's grasp. He left the Indian holding his coat as he dashed into the cold rain, snatches of scripture pouring from his lips. Mingo glanced down at the shabby coat in his hands. Stitched inside was the name: Lester Wills.

Mingo's mind struggled to place the name but the connection remained in shadow. Still Mingo knew that the name was familiar.

Isaac trotted to Mingo's side and grasped the Cherokee's arm. "Let him go. He is a danger. We are safer without him."

Mingo turned to look into Isaac's troubled eyes. "I can't do that. He is deranged, Isaac. He will die alone in the wilderness."

"Then he dies."

Mingo sighed. He understood Isaac's point of view. But he couldn't allow it. Somehow the thin man was connected to him and he felt strangely responsible.

"Watch over the children. Stay here with them. I will return. Don't leave without me."

With a deep breath Mingo stepped out of the sheltering cave. He gasped as the cold rain sluiced over his bare head and unprotected body. Thunder rumbled above him and the sodden ground sucked at his feet. Gabriel's trail was easy to follow in the mud. Mingo found him kneeling in prayer only a few hundred yards beyond the cave. When he touched the man's arm Gabriel stopped praying and looked blankly into Mingo's face.

"You find me unworthy." Gabriel's voice was filled with sadness and grief. "I see it in your eyes. What can I do to be worthy? Tell me!" Gabriel was becoming more and more agitated as he spoke. He scrambled to his feet and grabbed Mingo's bare arms. The rain chilled them through and Mingo began to pull Gabriel toward the shelter of the cave. The thin minister allowed himself to be dragged to the cave entrance.

Once inside both men were seized with uncontrollable shivering. Mingo pulled his blanket free and wrapped the thin man warmly. Then the Cherokee dashed back out into the rain and returned shortly with as much dry wood as possible. He had used his knife to pry wood from the underside of fallen logs. He kindled a small fire near the cave's back wall and again shot out into the pouring rain to find as many sticks of firewood as possible. He brought the largest sticks he could find. Carefully he peeled away as much of the wet as he could and placed their ends in the fire. As they dried they began to catch, and within minutes the fire was sending out warmth into the chilly cave.

Isaac walked to the cave mouth and prepared to dash for more wood but Mingo prevented him. Explaining that there was no reason for the youth to also be wet and chilled, Mingo spent nearly thirty minutes finding as much wood as he could carry. Isaac carefully prepared it as Mingo had done while the older man shivered and dripped near the fire.

Gabriel remained docile and completely quiet, drawn deeply into himself. He sat before the fire, his legs crossed, his arms on his knees, his head on his chest. His teeth chattered with his violent shivering. Mingo's blanket was draped around his thin shoulders. The three children sat as far from him as possible, their backs to the cave wall. Anna cuddled on Mary's lap.

The rain began to lessen until it was only a light drizzle. Isaac asked permission to use Mingo's rifle. Mingo nodded and the Monacan youth gathered Mingo's accoutrements, stepped out into the drizzle and disappeared. Inside the cave Mary began to sing softly as she rocked her little sister. Bernie lay down with his head in her lap and closed his eyes. Mingo sat and watched the three children, a tender smile lifting his wide lips.

Though still shivering, he was becoming warmer. Isaac had thoughtfully prepared a pot of coffee and the tin cup warmed Mingo's chilled hands as the liquid heated his chilled body. Beside him Gabriel sat woodenly. Mingo offered the tin cup of hot coffee, touching Gabriel's cold hand with his own.

The other man's light eyes slowly lifted to Mingo's face. Mingo was startled to see tears glistening there. He shook his head at the coffee, then continued to stare into the flickering fire. Mingo frowned and once again touched the man's hand. "Gabriel, it is hot and will help warm you. Drink this."

As though reluctantly obeying a command from a superior Gabriel reached for the cup. He downed the hot coffee in only seconds, then returned the cup to the startled man beside him. Mingo was becoming worried about Gabriel's state of mind. In the silence he prepared all the firewood to burn, thinking as he worked.

Gabriel's words to him the day before were a puzzle. What had Gabriel meant when he told Mingo he was in disguise? And what had made the thin man guess his English name? Isaac was right about his strangeness. As he peeled the firewood Mingo attacked the mystery.

An image formed in his mind. The clerk from the Mills haberdashery stood on his father's marble steps. Mingo saw himself as he had been, a tall youth out of place in his father's grey townhouse. As the hatter followed Joseph through the dim hall to John Murray's study he looked full into Edmund's eyes. He tipped his own hat to the privileged youth, an expression of dislike on his pale face. There was an unspoken challenge there, a weighing, a judgment.

Gabriel had been that clerk. He must have been related to the owner of the shop. Mingo decided that it was unlikely that Gabriel was an ordained minister within any known church. Equally unlikely he had been commissioned by either of the Wesley brothers or Thomas Coke. The man's deluded mind had invented the entire ordination. He had created a name to match. Sadly Mingo shook his head. He had heard tales of hatters going mad after years of dealing with the strong chemicals needed to create the stylish hats of the time.

How sad that destruction had come from the hands of one who believed he was God's avenger of earthly wrongs. The little fire sent warmth and light into the darkness. But Mingo's heart remained heavy and cold with the knowledge of Lester Wills' descent into madness as Gabriel Vindicare.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The cold water closed over his head as he dived into the broad river. He swam several seconds under the water. Then strongly he stroked back to the surface. But he couldn't seem to reach it. His lungs began to burn as they demanded air. Frantically Mingo struggled to break through the glass and breathe.

In a panic he grasped the hands at his throat and pulled. Gabriel's grip was driven by his madness and he struggled to keep his stranglehold. Mingo's dark eyes opened and a thrill of fear shot through his body at the look on Gabriel's face. The desire to murder was starkly written on his pale features.

He pushed his back against the cave wall and staggered to his feet. His height caused the smaller man to be off balance and the pressure on his throat lessened. Mingo thrust his arms up under the other man's and snapped the choke hold. Gabriel shrieked with rage and grabbed a stick of firewood. He raised it high over his head and brought it down with as much force as possible. The children screamed as they helplessly watched the two men battle.

Mingo saw the raised club and leaped sideways to avoid the blow. The dead wood splintered harmlessly against the cave wall. Gabriel spun on his heels and dashed out of the cave mouth into the darkness.

Over the sound of Mingo's raspy breathing and Anna's sobbing came Gabriel's voice. Eerily it rang in the darkness. "The serpent said to Eve, you shall not die. You shall be as God. Then the serpent took Him to a high place, daring Him to jump off. But He replied, 'You shall not tempt the Lord your God.' "

Mingo reached for Mary and her siblings as he sank weekly to the floor. Anna crawled into his lap where he could feel her pushing against his legs with her feet as her head burrowed painfully into his ribs. Bernie clutched his neck as Mary leaned against his other side, quivering.

A quarter hour later Isaac returned with a small deer over his shoulders. He found the four huddled together before the little fire and Gabriel gone. Even in the weak firelight the youth could see the bruises forming around Mingo's throat.

"You see, I told you the truth. I told you not to turn your back on him." Isaac's voice held a note of admonishment. Mingo nodded over Anna's little blonde head. "Should I try and go after him? It is very dark, Cherokee. He will not be easy to find."

Mingo wearily shook his head. He leaned back against the cave wall and closed his eyes. Isaac took the deer carcass to the front of the cave and cut several long strips to roast. He had thoughtfully brought several long supple branches to use as roasting sticks. Mingo leaned forward and showed the three children how to roast their meat.

Anna refused to leave the security of his arms, so she sat contentedly on his lap while Mingo roasted her meat. Her little thumb was jammed deeply into her mouth and her round eyes were focused on the strip of venison. Her free hand rested on Mingo's warm arm.

Hours later the three children were snuggled together under Mingo's blanket. The other two sat before the fire. Mingo cleared his throat and attempted to say a few words. The hoarse croak was barely loud enough for Isaac to hear, and the youth leaned close.

"We will continue to Salem. The children will be safe with their uncle and grandfather. You can go back to Bethel, and I will go on to Williamsburg."

Isaac nodded his agreement. Mingo reached for his rifle but Isaac grabbed it quickly and gestured for Mingo to lean back against the wall and sleep. Gratefully Mingo nodded his head and closed his eyes, sinking slowly into the sleepy warmth.

Four days later Isaac turned north to return to his home. Before he left he gripped Mingo's hand tightly in affectionate appreciation. With a quick wave, he left the children beside their tall Cherokee protector. They waved until he was lost in the thick forest. Then they turned their horses to finish the last miles to Salem.

Anna rode in Mingo's arms with Bernie and Mary riding beside them. The other two horses were tied together and their lead rope grasped firmly in Bernie's hand. Mingo took his charges directly to the constable and was grateful to see them received with loving joy by their relatives. Their grandfather insisted on providing Mingo with a saddle horse to continue his journey.

The three children hugged him tightly in affection and gratitude. They stood with their family and waved until he was out of their sight. The horse made his travel much faster and he approached Williamsburg in the second week of May. The early summer heat triggered memories of his journey years before. On the twelfth day of the month he hitched the horse to the post before The Amity House and opened the heavy door. He, Walter and Nancy spent the entire evening getting reacquainted, laughing at old memories and making new ones.

As the hour approached midnight Mingo asked about Dennis and Melody Dowling. Walter spent ten minutes telling him about how the young couple came with Mingo's note and were set up to spend a week at The Amity House until they could find a place of their own. The two couples had become quick friends, as Mingo suspected they would. Telling Walter and Nancy of the Dowling's letter to him, Mingo explained his plans to see the young couple and their new daughter. Nancy promised an ample breakfast and the three friends parted for the night.

Early the next morning Mingo tethered his horse and walked along the sidewalks of the beautiful city looking for Dennis' shop. Walter's directions were easy to follow and after only minutes Mingo was standing before the little shop. The door flew open and Melody Dowling dashed squealing into Mingo's arms. She quickly drew him into her neat little house and pulled him into the kitchen.

There Dennis stood holding his daughter. The little mite looked at Mingo curiously. She had dark brown hair like Melody and the same bright brown eyes as her father. Mingo held out his arms and Dennis proudly handed his child to the man who had saved Melody's life.

Mingo cuddled the little girl and looked into Dennis' shining eyes. Melody stood beside her husband, her beautiful eyes filled with tears. "Her name is May. She was born in the spring, and we wanted a name that began with an "M" to honor you." Dennis' voice held deep affection for the tall dark man tenderly holding his little girl.

Mingo spent five days with the Dowlings, admiring their shop filled with orders, Melody's thriving garden, her neat and well-kept house, and the bustling city of Williamsburg. Mingo remembered it as it had been nearly 15 years before and he enjoyed exploring its expanding borders. Every evening the three sat on the porch and visited about each others' lives. On the evening of the last day Mingo cleared his throat and faced the two young people. Little May lay sleeping contentedly in the crook of his arm.

"Dennis, Melody, I am so pleased that your lives are as full and rich as they are. You, Walter, and Nancy, are very dear to me. Now when I think of you I can picture you here, content and prosperous. Thank you for inviting me to see you."

Dennis leaned over and squeezed Mingo's strong shoulder. "Mingo, none of this would have been possible without you. I want to show you something. I forgot when I gave you a tour of my shop." The small young man rose and disappeared into his shop.

In his absence Melody placed her hand on his bare arm and spoke softly. "I want to add my thanks to Dennis'. I have done as I told you I would. I have given thanks every day for my life and prayed for your continued safety and happiness. Mingo, it is so good to see you! You are such an important part of our life. We know we would have had no life at all without you."

Mingo colored slightly at her heartfelt words. His was a humble heart and praise made him uncomfortable. But he too was pleased that his aid saved the young mother and made their life in Williamsburg possible. He smiled into her deep violet eyes.

Dennis returned with a glass bowl in his hands. He tilted it to reflect the last of the fading summer light. On the bottom of the bowl was a mark. Every artisan had his own, a kind of brand to declare the work as his own. Dennis' mark was a feather with a large capital "M" incised into it. Mingo stared at it for several seconds, then colored more deeply.

"Thank you Dennis. It makes me happy to know that you two think of me so highly."

"We haven't told you but we found the rock you placed on the grave. Before we left the cave that spring we went to the baby's grave one last time. We wondered what had happened to the rock, but I didn't want to dwell on it and I didn't want Melly to either. Thank you. Thank you for everything. Everything."

The young man's voice caught in his throat and he stopped. Beside him Melody squeezed his hand and brushed the tears from her cheeks. Mingo nodded his understanding, bent his head and kissed little May's sleeping face, then handed the child to her mother.

Melody stood and silently took her child. She bent and kissed Mingo's cheek, soft as the kiss of a snowflake. Then she entered her dark house and left the two men alone on the porch. They sat in companionable silence for another half-hour, then rose and went to their rest.

Mingo left the next morning, a small glass bowl carefully wrapped in cloth and tied to the saddle. With promises to write once a year, the Dowlings waved to their Cherokee friend as he rode down the wide Williamsburg street. He stopped at The Amity House, spent a week with Walter and Nancy, then turned the dun's dusky face to the west.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The summer weather stayed hot and dry as Mingo rode over the trail. The dun was a large horse, strong and biddable. He easily carried the tall man through the Virginia forest, through the Gap and into Kentucky. Mingo thought as he rode, composed poems and recited whole passages of Shakespeare from memory. The two companions were comfortable with each other and the days passed without incident.

Only two days from Chota a storm blew in from the west. The approach irritated Mingo because he knew the rivers would rise and delay his homecoming. That knowledge made him more reckless than usual and he urged the tall dun forward.

The warm rain began before he crossed the Kentucky River. Thunder rumbled through the thick forest. When he reached the river the muddy water churned and frothed. Frowning angrily, Mingo searched for a place to ford.

The dun shifted nervously under him and pawed the sodden ground. Mingo dismounted, retied the glass bowl carefully, and pulled the reluctant dun after him. A flash of lightning lit the sky and the resulting thunder shook the ground. The dun reared in fright. Mingo pulled on the reins and tried to quiet the spooky animal. He lost his footing on the muddy riverbank and fell backwards into the rushing Kentucky River.

Fighting the panic that was rising in his heart, Mingo concentrated on keeping his head above the churning water. Debris caught in the flood banged into his body and pushed him under. In desperation he clutched a large spar and pulled his body onto the floating log for more safety. He rode the log for several minutes until it smashed into the near bank as the river made a sharp bend. Flung off, Mingo's head hit the log.

Just before he blacked out from the blow his eyes struggled to focus on a wild vision. A black raven hovered over the river. A man seemed to be standing in the water below it, holding out a staff of some kind. Mingo reached for the rod but lost consciousness before he could reach it.

He awakened with a pounding headache. His bruised body was sore and his watery lungs burned. Each breath brought additional pain. He laid completely still, his mind traveling over his body as he took inventory of his injuries. Nothing seemed to be broken, which was a miracle. His clothing was intact, even his boots. He closed his eyes and gave thanks for his life. Then cautiously he listened for the sound of danger.

The storm had passed and the bright stars twinkled above him. As he lay listening he became aware that someone or something was breathing nearby. Minutes passed. Then the soft lips of a horse nuzzled his cheek. Mingo opened his eyes and saw the dun standing over him. He must have come out of the water on the same side that he fell in.

Slowly he sat up and grasped the trailing reins. In the faint light of the rising moon he could see his rifle still attached to the saddle, along with the glass bowl. His whip was still securely fastened to the rifle, as was his powder horn and shot pouch. He assumed that his pack remained attached to the other side of the saddle.

He staggered to his feet and leaned against the tall horse's shoulder. His chest heaved as he struggled to draw a deep breath. The animal nuzzled his head and blew his warm breath against Mingo's cheek. Patting the dun's neck, Mingo pulled himself into the saddle and turned the animal into the nearby forest. After a few yards he stopped and made camp. The ground was soggy so after tethering the horse to a small basswood Mingo climbed a nearby oak and settled in to sleep.

As he was dropping off his mind suddenly recalled the vision. The black crow was a symbol of death. Mingo felt a shiver of fear travel up his long spine. But of what significance was the man? Exhausted from his fight with the river, his mind refused to function. He securely braced himself in the oak's branches and fell asleep.

His answer came with the morning. A wracking cough woke him at dawn as his lungs fought to expel their load of river water. Carefully he climbed from his perch and leaned against the oak, trying to draw a deep breath. But each attempt brought only another cough. Alarmed, he spent nearly a half hour slowly gathering wood to brew a pot of coffee. He hoped that the hot liquid would help his lungs.

As he straightened with a last stick he saw the man of his vision. Stiffening his spine, Mingo faced the apparition. As it approached something tugged at Mingo's mind. A memory began to form. Suddenly Mingo recognized the man. It was Gabriel Vindicare.

Never taking his eyes from the approaching man, Mingo stepped slowly backward. Gabriel extended his hands as though to welcome a dear friend. Cautious now, Mingo continued to back toward his camp and his rifle. The dun nickered a welcome as Mingo dropped the firewood and reached for his weapon.

His face draped in sadness, Gabriel stopped ten feet from Mingo and dropped his hands.

"Edmund, don't you know me? I pulled you from the river, my brother. I saved you as you saved me. My debt is paid. We are equal. Now teach me to fly. Teach me to rise on the wings of eagles!" Gabriel stretched his hands to the brightening sky, his light eyes filled with rapture.

Mingo watched him suspiciously but left his rifle tied to the saddle. In his weakened condition he knew that if Gabriel attacked him again he could be seriously hurt. But there was an equal chance that Gabriel would turn his own rifle upon him if it was available. Trying to decide his best course of action, Mingo knelt and began to shave pieces from the sticks to use as tinder. He tried to appear nonchalant to lure Gabriel into a feeling of safety.

"It is good to see you Gabriel. It has been weeks since you left the cave."

Gabriel sat on the sodden ground. He leaned over and looked into Mingo's eyes, his own face wistful and sad. Mingo had seen that expression before. He tightened his grip on the large knife in his hand.

"Where are the children? Did you give them to the unbelievers? And the boy too?"

"The children are with their kinsmen. Isaac returned to Bethel." Mingo's answer seemed to agitate the thin man. He lifted his face to the summer sky. "You shall be delivered to the unbelievers. You shall be scourged and your days shall be numbered. In the last days you shall pray for the very rocks to fall and cover you. Woe unto you, even to the seventh generation!"

"Gabriel…" Mingo began. But the thin man leaped to his feet and pointed his finger at the Cherokee before him. "I see it all now! I thought that you were the protector, the angel sent from God to show me the way. I was right about you being in disguise. You are really a servant of the one who would take my power from me. It is now my task to destroy you, as it was in the belly of the beast. I failed then because doubt stayed my hand. But now I see you…..now I know you!"

As he had done twice before Gabriel grabbed a stick of firewood and swung at Mingo's head. The vigilant Cherokee ducked and rolled along the ground, quickly got to his feet and dashed behind the nearest tree where the dun was tied. He kept his knife gripped firmly in his right hand.

The horse nervously swung his body from side to side as the two men jockeyed for position. As Gabriel swung the chunk of firewood at Mingo he accidentally brushed it against the horse's rump. The startled animal kicked out and caught Gabriel in the groin. The blow sent the thin man sailing backwards. He hit the ground hard and rolled in agony. Mingo ran to Gabriel's side and stood watching as the man dug his fingers into the soft Kentucky soil. He was doubled in pain and rocking in distress. Without lessening his grip on his knife Mingo bent and touched Gabriel's shoulder with his left hand.

"Gabriel? Can you stand? Where did he kick you?"

The other man continued to moan and roll in pain. He clutched his body just above the junction of his right leg. Mindlessly he bent and straightened his legs, his heels digging into the mud. Blood began to seep from the man's mouth as he bit his own tongue.

"Gabriel, I need to see. Let me see where he kicked you." Mingo stuck his knife into the earth beside the writhing man and unbuttoned his trousers. As he pulled the cloth open he could see a dark red fist-sized swelling forming in the soft belly just above the other man's pubic bone. Mingo rocked back on his heels, his face frozen in horror. He had no idea what to do.

He patted Gabriel's shoulder in comfort, then ran to place more wood on the fire. He quickly set his coffeepot in the fire to heat. Several minutes passed as Mingo was forced to lean against a tall elm, coughing. When he was able he tore several branches from nearby evergreen trees. He placed them near the fire and covered them with his blanket. Returning to the moaning man he carefully lifted Gabriel and carried him to the springy bed.

The exertion caused a watery cough to rack Mingo's tall body. He bent at the knees and expelled a handful of water from his laboring lungs. Gasping, he staggered to his pack and retrieved his packet of coffee. He dumped a measure into the coffeepot and sat trying to catch his breath. Gabriel moaned and writhed on the evergreen bed.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The summer heat was growing and still Mingo had not come. Israel watched for him every day, and every night he went to bed disappointed. Finally, as the Kentucky summer drifted on he decided to once again ask his father about the absence of their dearest friend.

Daniel was concentrating on making laces for his boots. He did not notice his son until the boy tugged at his shirt sleeve. "Israel! I though your ma sent you to bed hours ago."

"Yessir, she did. But I been laying up there thinkin' 'bout Mingo. Ain't it near time for him to be here?"

"Not really, son. You know he likes to celebrate the Cherokee summer holidays at Chota."

"Yessir, but…"

"Don't worry about him Israel. Just because you think he ought to be here takin' you fishing."

"No, Pa, it ain't that. I think somethin' has happened to him."

Daniel's light green eyes sparkled at his son. "Are you sure you're not just wantin' to tell him a tall tale or two?"

"Paaaa… no! Somethin' has happened. Somethin' bad."

"If that was true Menewa would have sent somebody to tell us."

Israel mulled the answer for several seconds, then replied, "But what if Menewa don't know? Mingo went to Williamsburg, remember?"

Daniel raised his frowning face to his young son. He had forgotten about Mingo's letter and the resulting trip east. An uneasy feeling began to grow in the big frontiersman's stomach. He patted his son on the rump and smiled into his anxious eyes.

"I'll go lookin' for him tomorrow. Now go on up to bed and go to sleep or your ma'll come rarin' out and get us!"

Israel smiled and hugged his father's neck. As the little boy climbed into the loft Daniel rose and made ready to follow Mingo's trail at first light. A sense of urgency troubled the big man and his night was spent in restlessness. With a quick kiss, Dan left Becky in the bed and strode out his cabin door before the June morning's first light.

Following as straight a line as possible, Daniel traveled southeast toward the Gap. On the third day he peered through the trees at an unusual sight. In the early morning light he could see a picketed horse, a bed of evergreen branches and a reclining figure motionless upon it.

Cautiously he slipped around to approach the camp from the horse's side. The animal nickered a welcome as the big man touched its soft speckled nose. The man on the bed did not move at the sound. Frowning, Daniel walked toward the bed with his rifle at the ready.

After only two steps he leaned the rifle against a tree and strode to the bed. The prone man was Mingo. Daniel shook his shoulder forcefully and the dark eyes opened slowly.

"Daniel?" Mingo's voice was hoarse and breathy.

Daniel nodded and quickly saddled and bridled the dun. Then he pulled his friend upright. He could feel the fever radiating from Mingo's body. Holding the horse steady as he helped Mingo mount, Daniel retrieved his rifle and Mingo's, then took the horse's reins and turned to the northwest.

They traveled all night, Mingo leaning heavily on the dun's neck, his breath coming in gasps as he tried to breath. Dan walked as rapidly as he dared through the darkness and arrived in Chota the following morning.

Atsila and Tekawitha put Mingo to bed while Daniel rested in Menewa's lodge. The two men sat together silently for nearly an hour before Menewa began to explore the questions. Though the two talked together for another hour neither man could satisfactorily explain Mingo's condition or his long absence. Daniel spent the rest of the day dozing in the nearby forest. He slept fitfully that night in Menewa's lodge, worrying about Mingo.

The next morning Mingo sent for Daniel. When he entered Mingo's lodge Daniel found him propped up on two rolled blankets. A deep cough shook Mingo's body but the fever had broken. In short sentences interspersed with coughing Mingo explained his long absence. After twenty minutes Mingo fell silent. As Daniel turned to go Mingo held out a restraining hand.

"Gabriel wasn't really a bad man. It is my hope that the children and Isaac can one day forgive him for all the grief he caused them. He died asking my forgiveness." Mingo dropped his head and sighed.

"It sounds like you did all you could Mingo. You can't heal a man's mind like you can his body. Don't fret about it. Besides, if Israel hadn't gotten after me you might be dead by now too. You couldn't have lasted much longer without care. A storm would've finished you."

Mingo nodded his agreement. He closed his eyes wearily. Daniel rose to go but Mingo held out his hand once more. "Wait, Daniel. I will join you later, before the trapping season. But before you go home, please make sure that Gabriel is well covered. I don't know how thorough I was. The fever had already taken hold of me before he died. It was a horribly slow death."

Daniel nodded. "I'll do that. You rest and get well. I'll look forward to seein' you come striding across my yard. I don't know how I'd get through a season of trappin' without once hearing your recite Shakespeare or burning a batch o' corncakes!" Daniel smiled and ducked beneath the bearskin door.

Two days later Daniel stood before the new grave. Mingo had laboriously dug it with his knife, then covered the body with stones. In his weakened and fevered condition Daniel could imagine how hard the task must have been.

Admiration for his Cherokee friend coursed through his heart. Even after all the strife, Mingo had carefully and reverently buried his troubled attacker. There was even a marker, shakily carved with Mingo's knife. The legend read: Gabriel Vindicare—A Messenger.

The last rays of the summer sun deserted the trees and darkness fell over Kentucky. Daniel kindled a fire in Mingo's fire ring and sat drinking his coffee. The bright summer stars sparkled overhead. Daniel sighed and thought about the coming season. Mingo would soon be with him, hale and hearty as ever.

At that thought the tall frontiersman smiled and nodded at the distant grave. Then he turned and lifted his cup in silent salute to his recovering Cherokee friend. A short distance away an owl hooted. Daniel rolled into his blankets and fell asleep listening to the call of the forest's invisible messenger. A few yards away another messenger slept his final sleep, peaceful at last.

CC 4/27/08


End file.
